Earl Grey and Stripey Pyjamas
by It'sForScienceJawn
Summary: Poor Q. Battling against Her in an attempt to win James' heart. First Fanfic, criticism welcome! Also, not sure if Q is Q1 or Q2/R, but it is the Q from Skyfall. :) 00Q Fanfiction
1. Chapter 1: Q Does NOT Do Mornings

Q looked up from his cup of Earl Grey, sighing, exasperated. Thirty-seven. Thirty-seven, what James crudely referred to as "gadgets", that had been destroyed by MI6's one and only. Q stared lamely into his laptop screen, rubbing his eyes. Did James have any idea how hard it was to even come up with new ideas for those things, let alone construct them.

Instead of getting ready for the tedious journey on the tube to get to headquarters, he was sat hacking into Her accounts, to search for any sign of contact between the two.

Her. Q refused to recognise her by her true name. She was just, Her. The Woman.

_The Psycho Bitch From Hell was more like it, _he thought angrily. Q always knew he was never a morning person.

Why did she have to be assigned to fieldwork. Why her. Of all the women at MI6, of all the women in _England_, why her. They meant nothing to Q, the women. It didn't matter how much James flirted around with them. Q didn't care, he knew they meant nothing to him. Although this was slightly disheartening, to know that the person that one pines over is a little of a, dare he say it, _"player"_, it was also comforting to know that maybe James was holding out...

Q slammed his laptop shut, and chugged the last of his Earl Grey with gusto, almost choking on the tea bag. No, it wouldn't do to think like that. It was a job, just a job, only a job.

Looking at the clock, Q almost dropped his now empty mug, and scrambled around the house trying to find his tie. Late, again! After a frantic ten minutes of getting ready, Q rushed out of the door, hastily locking it and shoving the keys with the "I 3 Computing" keyring into his messenger bag and fumbling with his wallet, trying desperately to find his Oyster card.

No, James would have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2: Looks Can Kill

"What're you doing, then?"  
"Nothing."  
"C'mon, you have to be doing something."  
"I said nothing, Bond." Q snapped without lifting his eyes from the big screen in front of him, that started filling up with maps, blueprints, and reels of code. He may like James, but he would definitely not show it. Especially not in the work place; he was a professional.

Bond stood up, carelessly disrupting a few papers (which Q hastily rearranged) and sauntered off in the direction of his office.

Bond's office, like the rest of MI6, was currently underground. The reason for this being that it was clearly common sense, in the Ministry's eyes, to hide the Ministry easier and more effectively, whilst it also increased security tenfold. Bond's office was therefore relatively small, with the blasted dog statue M so kindly gave to him in her will sitting smugly on his desk, staring at him.

His attention on it was brief, however, as at that very same moment, She walked in. She was tall, with long blonde hair tied into a neat bun, had legs that went on forever, and a figure to die for. Which many, in fact, had.

Her heels clicked across the stone floor as she sat down on Bond's desk, and handed him some papers.

"M says to be at the debriefing for five, and _don't _be late this time."

"Well, I wouldn't want to put a frown on that pretty little face of yours, now would I?" asked Bond, playfully.

"I'm sure you wouldn't." She said, leaning over the desk and placing a perfectly manicured hand upon his knee. "Because then you'd have to answer to me."

She walked out of the office, her hips attracting the attention of every man in the Ministry as she walked up the stairs to M's office.

Cheeky bitch, Bond thought.

"Ah, Mr Bond. Finally, you grace us with your presence." M was clearly not happy.

"Oh, well, um, yes. I had some, erm, important business to attend to" he mumbled, tucking his shirt back into his pants, and fixing his black tie.

"And I'm sure Miss West also had the same business of which to attend?" M asked.

The secretary flushed bright red, readjusting her necklace.

Bond glanced over at Q, who suddenly seemed very interested with the content of his teacup, and then at Her, who was casually biting her lip, seeming very interested with the content of Bond's-

"Well I suppose we better get started then, shouldn't we." snapped M as Bond gingerly took a seat at the opposite end of the table, and as far away from M as he could place himself. "Moscow has an agent in it that we need to quickly, how should I put this, 'dispose of'", glancing over at Q.

Q hated the way people here treated him like a baby. Just because he was younger than the previous Quartermasters certainly did _not_ mean he was more inexperienced, and could take whatever the Ministry flung at him. He may have never been out in the field, and this may be his first assignment, but he had seen Homeland.

"So, who is he?" asked Bond.

"Ivan Tarasov: a deadly agent and an even deadlier enemy. We need him written off, now. He's involved in a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister in a couple of months, at the Queen's official birthday. We're sending you in a week."

"I'll be accompanying you, Bond." She said. "Are you okay Q?"

Q hastily picked up the two remnants of his pencil, recently broken from shock and frustration.

"Oh, yes. Fine. Excuse me, a moment." Q quickly walked out of the room but not quick enough to not see the look pass between James and Her.

Great, another dozen gadgets, destined to be broken in the hands of a reckless show-off.


	3. Chapter 3: Press-ups and Family Matters

_One. Two. Three. Four. F-five. S-i-ix-_

Q walked into the gym.

"- Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!" James said, finishing his chin-ups, flinging himself rather expertly from the bar.

"Getting back into shape?" said Q, jokingly.

"I was never out of it, Q. Just because I had a littl-"

"Fuck up."

"_Accident_. I had an accident Q, that was not entirely my fault by the way, does not mean that I'm not as good as I was."

"If you say so." Q shrugged, and walked towards the changing rooms. James followed.

"So, um, what're you in here for? I never really, y'know, really see you around here..." James asked, awkwardly rubbing his neck, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly formed in his neck.

"Oh, I'm normally here of an evening. When all the obnoxious douchebags have left," Q said, looking James up and down, "and I can train in peace."

James scoffed. "You...you _train?_"

"Yeah, is that a _problem_" mimicked Q.

"I mean, no offence, but you look kinda...well, scrawny."

"You don't look half bad yourself. Shame about, well, everything though." Q laughed "Now, if you'll excuse me...?"

"Oh, right, yeah. No, uh, no problem." James said, and walked off to the showers. Not, however, before stealing a last look at Q, just as he was taking off his tr-

"Hey, Bond." came a shout from the gym. In walked Her, in a pair of shorts and a sports bra that left very little to the imagination. "You going to come help me with my sit-ups? We're not all as good as you, y'know." Bond heard a giggle coming from the direction of the changing rooms.

"Yeah, of course, just coming" he said, slightly more loudly than was entirely necessary. "I only aim to please"

"Oh, I know, 007. So drop and give me fifty."

* * *

Q sat infront of his television with his tub of rum and raisin ice cream and switched the channel to Dave. The phone began to ring. Reluctantly, Q picked it up from the mantle piece.

"Heeeeey! How's my best big brother?"

"Hey Kim" said Q, smiling. "How're you?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"How's uni going?"

"Oh my god, like,_ so _amazing, you have no idea!"

"I did go to university Kim" Q chuckled.

"Yeah but you kinda just sat in all the time studying, plus you were with the maths and science department. The parties here are _awesome_!"

"Ah, you must be Manchester's best and brightest." He remarked sarcastically.

"Shut up. So, how's working going? How's the cruuuuuush?" asked Kim.

"Yeah, work's, um, yeah it's good."

"And Miss Hot-Stuff?"

"She's, erm, she's good I guess."

"You _guess?!_ Aww, what happened man?" she inquired sadly.

"Oh, nothing, I just don't think she's that, um, that into me."

"Well I hope it turns out alright. Call me if you need me."

"No, I'm fine for now thank you. Got my tub of ice cream and reruns of QI."

"Rum and raisin?"

"Yep. How did you know?" he laughed.

"It's you. You've liked the same ice cream for twenty years!" she giggled. "JUST COMING" she shouted to someone, "Alright, well I'll speak to you later."

"All right. Love you, have fun, bye!"

"Love you too, see you later!"

Q put down the phone, and hugged his ice cream tighter. Damn James.


	4. Chapter 4: An Invasion of Privacy

_*knock knock*_

Q opened his eyes, peeking at his alarm clock.

_Seven. A. M. Hasn't anyone ever heard of Sundays? _grumbled Q, falling out of bed. Cursing under his breath, tripping over the cat, dragging his duvet behind him and around his shoulders. Q opened the door.

"You left this at the office."

It was James.

"Um, how did you know I liv-FELIX NOT NOW." Q yelled, taking his pen off of James.

"Hehe. Y'know, you don't have to take it out on the cat." Chuckled James, picking up the small tabby cat, and scratching it behind its ears. "He's only being friendly."

Q glowered at him. "First of all, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Seven in the morning!" said James, brightly.

"And Bingo was his name-o" said Q, sarcastically. "Secondly, how did you find me?"

"I work at MI6, how do you think?"

"Was it throug-"

"No! And I know that you think that something's going on between us but i-"

"I couldn't give a damn about your love life, Bond." shot Q. "The point is that this is an invasion of privacy, and all for a damn pen! Let me tell y-give him back."

"Alright, alright, Mr Sour Puss!" Laughed James. Q, however, did not find it quite as funny. He handed the cat back.

"Anyway, I seriously could have just got another one, I have tons."

"Yes, well, um, I also came to see if you wanted to go to the yearly, it's really stupid, they call it a 'ball', that the MI6 hold. Seeing as you're new I wanted to check that you'd got your invite."

"No, I didn't get anything." said Q.

"Oh! Hehe, well, good thing I checked! Well, I have a plus one, if you wanted to use it."

"Yes, I guess I can't see any harm in it."

"Brilliant! I mean..." James stumbled, as Q looked at him, lifting an eyebrow at his sudden enthusiasm. "Well, cool. I'll see you later, I guess."

"Yeah, see you on Monday. Bye."

"Bye Q." James smiled, going back down the stairs to the ground floor of the block of flats. Q watched him go, then closed the door, smiling at the cat.

"See, I told you. What do you think? Meow once for yes, twice for no."

The cat sat on Q's desk, its head tilted, looking at him. It stared for a few seconds, then sauntered off to the bedroom.

"Ah, you're just pissed that I shouted at you." Q chuckled. Well, he was up now, might as well start on work. He started up his computer and brought up shops for tuxes.

Well, maybe he'd start tomorrow. He had some serious business to do. Ball shopping! Now where was his cup of Earl Grey...?


End file.
